every now and then she’ll text me something hot to remind me she’s still thinking of me but she’s so far away why even bother.
maybe if i was a hundred years younger. or taller. or more millionairish.
they can just fly people around on jet planes and fly back in time for work.
the hard part about this part of my life is this is when things started going great for bukowski.
what the hell am i supposed to do with that information.
which ironically is what i wanted to text back at chica, but then i thought shes being nice, shhhhh.
the cubs swept the cardinals today. there was a bank error in my favor.
and i nearly died in a car crash when this lady from a strip mall to my right cut across my lane to merge with the traffic in the lane to the left to me.
this truck nearly hit her which woulda pushed her right into me.
crushing my just now developing brain and pretty face.
but he didn’t. he just honked. so when i got home
even though she may as well be on the international space station
i texted back, lookin good bb
which is code for